


Being Grisha

by Jo_Raven



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family, Grisha Callen deserves more hugs, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Shoulder Kissing, also they're in love but they're not ready, callanna, callen deserves a break, cause he deserves to be called by his actual name once in a while, grisha alexandrovich nikolaiev, mattress conversation, mention of cloth thievery, not explicit though, otp: maybe being broken is normal, spoiler last season ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_Raven/pseuds/Jo_Raven
Summary: About having a first name, a father, a sister, a nephew, and a steady girlfriend.





	1. Mattress conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! So I was supposed to be writing for Camp NaNo but instead I went on AO3 looking for Callanna content. I couldn't find Callanna content. I was sad. I made Callanna content. It's stupid and pretty much useless but I keep having little scenes happen in my head, not just with Anna but also with Nikita and Alexandra and her son Jake, and also the team??? So yeah, it might remain the only thing I will ever write here. Or I might write more stuff. No promises. We shall see.  
> Enjoy! And please, review if you did ^^  
> Edit : I almost forgot but important :  
> 1) English isn't my main language so if I Englished something wrong feel free to let me know;  
> 2) This was written while I was exhausted;  
> 3) This was written literally 3 minutes ago, I'm still exhausted, and I haven't proofread.

He’s already pretty much gone cause she’s a smartass who can fight and also never asks silly questions such as ‘what does the G stands for’ and ‘why do you sleep on a mattress in your living room while your house has several functioning bedrooms’. The mattress conversation ends him.

 

And it’s not like he’s never had the mattress conversation, okay? He’s had it several times already, with Hetty, with Sam, with Joelle at the time, literally with every single person who’s been inside his house because apparently where he sleeps and in which conditions is everybody’s main concern and can they all just give him a fucking break and mind their own damn business?

 

To be fair, he’s the one who starts the mattress conversation. Which should have hinted him off that something was up cause he’s never been the one to initiate the mattress conversation ever. He hates the mattress conversation. He fails to see the point of the mattress conversation.

 

He blames Hetty for the mattress conversation?

 

\- Hey, do you think we should get a room? Literally I mean.

 

He’s aware that she’s already half asleep. He’s aware because 1) his mattress is not made for two people to sleep on it (also two people sleeping on it while naked is pretty fun if one of the people is him and the other one a beautiful woman so like… Cool.) and 2) he’s been an active participant in the activities of the last hour which led to an half asleep Anna and an insomniac Callen over thinking stuff. So he’s not exactly expecting any coherent answer.

 

He doesn’t get any coherent answer and appreciates the knowledge that his brain is still working at two in the morning.

 

\- ...чем черт возьми ты говоришь...?

 

He swallows a giggle because he doesn’t giggle, and kisses her shoulder as an apology for not letting her sleep. He loves her shoulders cause they’re the softest thing he’s ever touched in his whole entire life. She’s the softest thing he’s ever touched in his whole entire life. Which makes him both grateful and worried. Soft things don’t tend to hang around him for very long and it’s been a while already. A year in fact.

 

They’ve been seeing each other for a year.

 

The realization kind of let him breathless for a minute.

 

He gathers his shit together so she doesn’t notice, clears his throat and carries on.

 

\- It’s just… I was just thinking we could use one of the upstairs rooms if you wanted… And, you know, use an actual bed.

 

She turns around to face him and for a moment she has that sleepy fog in her eyes which means she’s not completely focused yet. He thinks it’s adorable. Then mentally slaps himself because he never finds things adorable except very small children and animal shaped lollipops.

 

The fog clears out and she asks :

 

\- Are you breaking up with me?

 

Which makes him both suffocate and burst out laughing and in case anyone was wondering no, that’s not practical.

 

\- Are you kicking me out of your mattress? she clarifies with a fake-annoyed look.

 

He manages to get his lungs working normally long enough to answer something like :

 

\- The fuck are you talking about?

 

\- I don’t know, what the fuck are you talking about?

 

\- I’m talking about sleeping in a bed, in a room.

 

\- Why ? You don’t like your mattress and your living room anymore?

 

It hits him that it’s probably not the kind of conversation you have at two in the morning.

 

Then it hits him that most normal people don’t have conversations at two in the morning cause they’re asleep.

 

He’s so not normal.

 

\- No, he answers carefully. I still like my… I still like my mattress and my living room.

 

\- Great. Then why are you asking…?

 

\- I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to!

 

She looks at him very seriously for a second, then sighs.

 

\- Callen, did I say anything about wanting to sleep in a bed?

 

He thinks about it for a minute in case she did say something and it slipped his mind, comes up blank, and allows himself a soft :

 

\- No.

 

\- You want to know why?

 

\- Why?

 

\- Because I like your mattress.

 

On that she turns around and falls back asleep. It’s like a superpower she’s got, she can fall asleep really quick. He admires her for that. He knows he won’t be sleeping for at least a few hours so he should probably get up and do something productive like practice his French or take the coffee maker apart. Instead he kisses her shoulder one more time because he fucking can because he’s been seeing this woman for a year now so that means he’s allowed to kiss her shoulder from time to time, especially when she’s asleep, naked, on his mattress. He puts an arm around her and let his forehead brush her back and think yeah, I get it, you’re a keeper, alright.

 

(He later thinks ‘you’re fucking perfect is what you are’ but he gets an other mental slap for that so he tries and never thinks it again.)


	2. Michelle Hannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- It’s Sam…
> 
> She immediately pulls out of the hug and holds him by the arms with a worried look.
> 
> \- What’s wrong? Is he hurt?
> 
> \- No, he’s…
> 
> He was gonna say ‘he’s okay’ but that’s the stupidest and least accurate way to describe Sam’s state right now so he bites his tongue almost to blood, swallows and makes himself say :
> 
> \- His wife died this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got that one inside my head basically since I saw the last episode so here it is.  
> (SPOILER FOR END OF LAST SEASON -can't be bothered to check season and episode numbers rn sorry)

He stays alone with Michelle’s body for a while after Sam has left. He doesn’t know why. He’s been crying and he doesn’t cry much. He’s not mad about it though. Michelle is worth crying for.

(Why why why why why why why why why why why…)

Sam’s car is long gone by the time he gets out of the morgue. He can’t stand the empty dark street ahead of him, neither the building in his back, so he gets in his car and drives. He doesn’t pay attention where he’s going until he finds himself parked down Anna’s building.

It’s stupid.

He’s gonna wake her up.

And even if he doesn’t he has no right…

But someone should tell her. She didn’t know Michelle but she knows Sam.

He could tell her tomorrow.

He could call.

He calls.

\- Hey…

\- Did I wake you?

\- No, I was reading. Are you okay?

He waits. He wants to hang up. Instead his hand clutches the phone so hard it hurts, like he’s afraid of what would happen if he let go.

\- No, he says after a while. Can I come up?

She couldn’t have known he was calling from down the street but she doesn’t sound surprised, doesn’t even pause before saying :

\- Yes, of course, I’ll buzz you in.

He keeps the phone to his ear while he climbs the stairs, ignoring the elevator –he’d lose the connection, and besides he doesn’t like elevators. Her apartment’s door is open. She’s wearing one of his shirt and not much else. He hangs up and tugs his phone back in his pant pocket.

\- Are you okay? she asks again.

He knows he must look like shit. He hopes she can’t tell he cried. He stands in the doorway like a moron and when she touches his arm he kind of staggers on his feet.

\- Callen, what’s wrong? What happened? Come in…

He lets her pull him in and into her arms, and she closes the door behind him without letting go. He buries his nose in the crook of her shoulder. She smells nice. He likes that she’s wearing his shirt to bed.

He shouldn’t be allowed to think and feel like that right now what the hell is wrong with him? Shit he’s going to cry again. He closes his eyes to keep the tears in but he can’t help the little shake that run through his whole body and she feels it, wraps her arms around him and cradles the back of his head in one hand, rubs his back with the other with a soothing sound. He hears himself croak :

\- It’s Sam…

She immediately pulls out of the hug and holds him by the arms with a worried look.

\- What’s wrong? Is he hurt?

\- No, he’s…

He was gonna say ‘he’s okay’ but that’s the stupidest and least accurate way to describe Sam’s state right now so he bites his tongue almost to blood, swallows and makes himself say :

\- His wife died this morning.

He looks down at their feet but not fast enough to miss the veil of sadness that shapes her expression –sadness at the thought of someone close to them dying, sadness for Sam, and by extension sadness for him, and he hates it, he’s so mad at himself, that’s why he shouldn’t have come, this is not about him, why the fuck does he have to make it about him while Sam is…

His brain shuts up for a minute when she takes him back into her arms, whispering against his shirt :

\- I am so sorry…

He wants to answer something but doesn’t know what to say so he just holds her very tight and tries and fails to keep himself from shaking. His eyes still burn.

(He hates himself so bad right now.)

\- Sam’s not okay, he chokes out.

That’s so stupid, of course Sam’s not okay, what else is new?

\- Do you think I should call him?

\- No… I mean… Tomorrow maybe, he must be with his kids right now… Or… On his way there…

He has to stop in between sentences cause the crying is still trying to crawl up his throat and out of his mouth and eyes each times he blinks or speaks and he really doesn’t want to cry in front of her. Anna takes a few steps back, pulling him with her, turns them around and sits him on her couch. They’re kind of in the dark except for the street lights and the one coming from her room, and it occurs to him that she probably expected them to end up there pretty fast if she didn’t bother to light up the living room. He wants to joke about that. Realizes that if he opens his mouth now all that’s gonna come out is a sob so he keeps it closed. She doesn’t say anything either and sometimes he’s so thankful for Anna Kolcheck if he was a believer he would make a fucking huge donation to his local church.

It takes him a minute to gather his shit together and that’s when he notices that she had taken off one of his shoes and is working on the second one.

\- What… are you doing?

\- I’m taking off your shoes.

\- Yeah, I can see that. Why are you taking off my shoes?

She’s avoiding his gaze which means she’s being nervous which means he’s gonna kiss her at some point within the next few minutes.

\- I am making you comfortable.

He honestly doesn’t know what to answer that and she finishes taking off his shoes while he’s busy being taken aback. By the time he remembers how to English she’s taken away his jacket as well.

\- Do you want to tell me about it?

She throws his jacket away and straddles his laps and oh, okay, they’re going back to the hugging thing. Okay, he’s not gonna question that part, she still smells nice and in that position he can slip one of his hands up her thigh and under his shirt and okay this is grounding and comforting on a scale he has no memory of. He’ll be concerned about it tomorrow.

\- I’d rather… Can we… Can we talk about it tomorrow? Can we… Not talk right now?

She kisses his neck, his temple, then the line of his hair, whispers :

\- Okay…

And kisses his hair one more time before making them lie on the couch with his head on her shoulder. He keeps one hand on her thigh, drawing little circles on her skin with his thumb while she pets his hair and they don’t talk, don’t do anything, don’t go anywhere, just lie there together, and he lets it wash over him like waves in the Pacific. The pain. The loss. Michelle was his friend. He liked her. She had two children. She was Sam’s life, his sun and stars. She was such a nice person, why, that’s unfair, why, Sam didn’t deserve this…

(He doesn’t cry, but he lets himself hurt a little bit and that’s okay.)

(He also lets himself hold Anna while he thinks ‘I’m so glad you’re alive’ and he doesn’t give himself a mental slap for that one, because he had a hard couple of days and he’s allowed nice things from time to time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave kuddos and reviews if you liked it!


	3. An unexpected birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his phone rings he’s sitting on his front porch, pondering over when exactly he lost control of today’s program. He picks up without checking the ID.  
> \- Callen.  
> There’s pause at the other end of the line. A familiar one. Nikita doesn’t call him much, and when he does he always sounds hesitant. Callen can’t help but feel guilty about it.  
> \- Hello, Grisha.  
> \- Hey.  
> He’d be lying if he pretended he hasn’t wondered about Nikita today. Callen never tells people when it’s his birthday because he doesn’t see the point. His coworkers know because it’s in his file, and Anna asked at some point. Nikita is the only person alive who does not need to ask or check, who knows what his birthday is since he was born, who was actually there that day. It’s not like Callen was expecting him to show up or manifest in any way but… Well.  
> \- Today is your birthday.  
> \- Yeah, I know. Thanks for telling Alex, by the way, she showed up with Jake and a cake, and I don’t know what happened but now we’re having a barbecue.  
> \- Are you having a good day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this one is slightly longer and I'm... not at all satisfied with it? I feel like my English is even shittier in this one than usual so like if you see something and you're like 'jesus it's not even English' please let me know so I can fix it.  
> Mind the tags and the rating please.

His birthday used to come and go unnoticed even by him.

Especially by him.

Birthdays ain’t any fun when the people supposed to be so happy you were born they have a celebration every year about it aren’t there.

As a little kid he used to sit by the window of whichever house he was staying at, on his birthday. He would watch the street until night fall and his eyes start burning, and if nobody sent him to bed he would watch some more after that. Waiting. Hoping without hoping cause he already knew hoping was a bad idea. But he was too young to fight against the delirious fantasies developing inside his head. A car stopping by. A man or a woman (sometimes both) getting out, rushing to the door, banging it open, fighting the assholes trying to keep him from them, scooping him in their arms to take him home with them.

One year someone threw a brick through the window while he was watching. It didn’t hit him but he got some broken glass on his face and had to be driven to the hospital. The foster lady yelled at him like it was his fault, what business did he have sitting by that window all day long, uh?

He stopped after that. It was useless anyway.

 

Since he started working for the NCIS his birthday’s become something that actually happen, not just a regular day flying by unnoticed. Granted nobody ever tried to throw him a party –they all know him too well to imagine he would show up. But his birthday is a thing in the quiet “Happy birthday” whispered by Nell and Eric when he’s on his way out, in Kensi’s knowing smile, in the way Deeks can’t help but joke about him being old every single year. It’s a thing in Sam’s stupid habit to get him a birthday card since he told him he’d never got one –Sam always have the kids sign it as well, which means he gets the card early enough that Aiden was home at some point, and Callen tried not to think of it too hard. Kamran always draw something, a sun or a heart, and writes “happy birthday Uncle G” and Callen pretends he doesn’t give a damn about the card, but he has a box at home where he put them all for safekeeping.

At the end of the day Hetty summons him at her desk and pours them both a glass of her finest whisky. They drink either in companionable silence or in companionable conversation. She doesn’t tell him happy birthday but he gets the point.

He likes the years when he doesn’t have to be at work on his birthday better, though. Less feelings about it if he can go through it at home, alone, in peace and quiet.

 

That’s what happen this year. He’s up so early it might be called late, and throws himself into an heavy sport session –he has a lot of things not to think of this year, keeping his mind empty and quiet is not gonna be easy.

Anna shows up unexpected around 8 o’clock with a greasy paper bag, kisses him and makes a bee line for his kitchen. He follows, curious, and a bit unfazed. Anna drops the pastries on the kitchen counter, and throws a pack of lollipops alongside it. It has become sort of an habit, her stopping by in the morning to bring him food when they're both off. They usually end up having breakfast together and, if nobody is getting kidnapped or killed this morning, a very long shower.

She only ever brings him lollipops when he’s injured though.

\- What’s up?

\- I brought pastries.

\- I can see.

\- And lollipops.

\- Still not blind, Anna.

\- Happy birthday.

He doesn’t answer anything for a minute. He’s been so busy trying not to think he forgot he had slightly more people who might want to wish him a happy birthday this year. His silence and blank look are worrying her because she gets it, birthdays are complicated. For most people they are an excuse for celebration and gifts and stuff, but for broken people like them it’s never so clear, each year a reminder that something’s a bit wrong with them. She doesn’t know if Callen is into birthdays. She figured the only way to know was to check, so here she is, checking.

\- Callen?

She startles him out of his thoughts and he’s grateful for that. It hits him that he’s grateful for a her generally speaking –obviously none of this shit will last, but he’s making a shit ton of good memories out of it and he doesn’t have enough of those to be difficult about details, so he uncrosses his arms, strolls across the kitchen and kisses her softly, with an arm around her waist. Her fingertips at the back of his neck almost make him purr like a fucking cat.

\- Thank you.

She just smiles against his lips.

 

They eat the pastries, check their phones to make sure the world isn’t ending within the next hour, then take that shower. The stall’s not big enough for anything fancy but she still manages to fit there on her knees while she blows him under the hot water and it’s as awesome as it is unexpected –then again that woman keeps surprising him so… He’s still pretty much floating by the time they get out so she makes him sit on the edge of the bathtub they never use, while she dries his hair. He stops her halfway to kiss and lick the soft skin of her stomach and that’s how they end up having sex on his bathroom’s floor.

(He thinks, “Best birthday ever,” and doesn’t mentally slap himself for it because it’s the fucking truth.)

 

The world is still there and not ending, nobody tried to call them at work, so they cuddle on his couch and are halfway through their fourth re-watch of Chicago (sue them) when someone knocks at the door. They look at each other in confusion for a minute because Anna is already inside. Occupational hazard makes them take out their guns while checking who it is through the windows, before frantically hiding them because Alexandra’s here and she brought Jake and they don’t know shit about kids but they’re pretty sure they don’t go with guns.

He waits an extra moment with his hand on the doorknob cause that’s not exactly how he’s been planning to introduce Anna and Alex. To be fair, he was not planning to introduce them at all anytime soon. He takes one more look at Anna, who just shrugs with an amused smile. Then he opens the door and Jake launches himself against his legs.

\- Happy birthday!

He carefully unwraps the boy from around his legs and takes him in his arms so he doesn’t run around. Alexandra is holding a cake box in one hand. She smiles at him.

\- Happy birthday, Grisha.

\- We brought cake! Jake shouts like it’s the most exciting news of the century.

Which probably is, considering he’s eight years old. Callen tickles him –he won’t shatter his eardrums if he laughs instead of shouting, hopefully.

\- I can see that, thanks guys.

The kid is struggling to escape him so Callen puts him back on the floor and warily watches as he rushes in Anna’s general direction. Alex’s eyes go back and forth between them.

\- I’m sorry, I should have called, are we interrupting… ?

\- Nah, it’s fine, we weren’t doing anything productive. Come on, let’s put that in the kitchen. How did you know it was my birthday anyway? I didn’t tell you. Or Jake.

\- Our father told us.

Alex has embraced the whole ‘having a father and a brother’ much better and quicker than he did –he’s still processing while she’s that close to calling Nikita ‘Dad’ when they have dinner together. Thanks God for Jake who’s not calling him Uncle Grisha, he’s not sure he could deal with that just yet. He’s enjoying having someone else than Nikita calling him by his first name, though.

Anna’s never been at ease around children, especially young ones. She finds them unpredictable and difficult to read. Callen’s recently found nephew doesn’t seem like a difficult one though, he walks straight to her, extends his hand and introduces himself.

\- I’m Jake.

She crouches to be at eye level and shakes his little hand as gently as she can.

\- I’m Anna.

\- Are you Callen’s girlfriend?

\- I am.

\- Cool! Do you know coin tricks? Mum’s and Callen’s father, the Russian man, he’s teaching me coin tricks, do you wanna see one?

Anna takes a look toward the kitchen but Callen is speaking with Jake’s mother and they don’t look like they’re imminently coming back. She shrugs.

\- Sure, show me.

 

It turns out that Jake is the sweetest kid except when he’s had sugar. Callen is pretty sure the cake wasn’t e that sweet but then again, he did give the kid a couple lollipops when Alex wasn’t looking –if he’s gonna be someone’s uncle he’s gonna be a cool one. Anna ends up taking Jake for a grocery run because apparently they’re having a barbecue. He lets Alex take care of it because he’s never lit a barbecue in his life. When his phone rings he’s sitting on his front porch, pondering over when exactly he lost control of today’s program. He picks up without checking the ID.

\- Callen.

There’s pause at the other end of the line. A familiar one. Nikita doesn’t call him much, and when he does he always sounds hesitant. Callen can’t help but feel guilty about it.

\- Hello, Grisha.

\- Hey.

He’d be lying if he pretended he hasn’t wondered about Nikita today. Callen never tells people when it’s his birthday because he doesn’t see the point. His coworkers know because it’s on his file, and Anna asked at some point. Nikita is the only person alive who does not need to ask or check, who knows what his birthday is since he was born, who was actually there that day. It’s not like Callen was expecting him to show up or manifest in any way but… Well.

\- Today is your birthday.

\- Yeah, I know. Thanks for telling Alex, by the way, she showed up with Jake and a cake, and I don’t know what happened but now we’re having a barbecue.

\- Are you having a good day?

Callen seriously thinks about it for a moment before answering :

\- I think so. Surprisingly.

\- That’s good.

They stay quiet for a minute or two after that. Callen can hear his father’s breathing and he tries to figure out how that makes him feel after decades not knowing if he even had a father at all.

\- I have a something for you, Nikita says eventually. If you want it.

He doesn’t say it’s a birthday gift and Callen has never been so glad for an unspoken thing in his life.

\- Sure.

\- Who’s that?

Alex has gone around the house to look for him. He covers the phone with his hand before mouthing :

\- Nikita.

\- Tell him to join us.

He has thought about it. Nikita’s never been in his home.

Does he want Nikita in his home?

On his birthday?

He tries to shake himself into sanity. He didn’t think he’d want anyone in his home, especially on his birthday, except maybe Anna, but Alex and Jake are here and he’s not completely unhappy about it…

Fuck it.

\- Hey, you still here?

\- Yes.

\- You wanna come over? Alex and Jake are here, we’re having a barbecue.

He’s already said that.

\- Anna’s there too.

There is an other pause while Nikita remembers who Anna is.

\- The daughter of Arkady.

\- Yeah, well don’t call her that in front of her cause I’m not stopping her from punching you, she’s scary when she’s mad. Come over if you want, okay?

He hangs up without waiting for an answer because he doesn’t want to have a conversation about anything, especially not Anna, especially not with Nikita. Alex gives him a dark look that he’s learnt means ‘you need to stop being a little shit to our father’. He ignores it.

\- Did you manage to turn on the barbecue?

\- Did you ever turn a barbecue on without coal?

\- Alex, I’ve never used a barbecue.

\- Oh my god, I’m so teaching you things tonight. Step 1 : we need coal, so we can’t go to step 2 until Anna’s back. I was just putting it together. When was the last time you used that thing?

He doesn’t know how to explain that the last time he saw that thing he was fourteen and a kind man was manning it while he pushed a little girl on a swing. The swing is gone now. He wonders if he should put an other one up, for Jake, if Alex takes the habit to come over unexpected.

\- Hey, listen…

She sits by him on the front step and he clutches his phone in his hand, not hard enough to break it but close. He can go through the evening without openly freaking out but he’s already uncomfortable and that’s not going away without his guests.

\- I know I should have called, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in like that. Nikita mentioned your birthday to Jake last time they saw each other, and you know how that kid is, he got excited and this morning he kept jumping around, asking if we could go see you. He didn’t let me call you, he wanted it to be a surprised. You’d think I would know better than to listen to my eight years old’s suggestions by now…

A gentle laughter escapes him like bubbles, softening his anxiety a little bit. He puts an arm around Alex’s shoulders to comfort her.

\- Don’t worry about it. We really didn’t have any plan except watch musicals all day. Cake, a coin tricks show and a barbecue work too.

\- Yeah, sorry about Jake. Did you give him lollipops by the way? she adds with a suspicious look.

He takes his arm away and gets up just to be safe.

\- You said not to.

\- I did, did you listen?

\- Uhu.

 

By the time Anna and Jake come back, a Fedex truck almost gave him a heart attack –what now? It was Sam Hanna’s fucking birthday card and he used the excuse to isolate himself and text him. Sam is still on leave, away from LA with Aiden and Kamran, so Callen wasn’t expecting an answer. He got one.

 

_This is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you. Tell Anna to send me pictures._

 

Then, before he had time to type an answer :

 

_Never mind, I’m texting her._

 

Callen finds himself smiling, sitting alone in the dark in his bathroom. He wants to ask how Sam is, how the kids are coping. He doesn’t, and puts his phone away.

 

Despite his best efforts Jake did not manage to talk Anna into buying cardboard birthday hats and balloons. Callen couldn’t be more thankful if he was trying. Nikita shows up in time to help cook the meat. He and Alex look like they know their way around a barbecue so Callen makes sure everyone has a beer or something, then escapes to sit in the grass with Anna. The sun has started to come down. Jake is trying to climb in the tree.

\- I thought about going to help him, Anna explains when he collapses on her right.

\- What changed your mind?

\- Nothing, I didn’t want to go help him.

He bursts out laughing, not just because he can relate but because it’s been a stressful day, all in all. He forces himself to go from lying on his back to actually sitting and whispers :

\- Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t planning any family reunion today.

\- I’m not blaming you.

\- But… ?

\- But… Alex and Jake are normal. More or less. They’re going to want to do that every year.

\- Can we spontaneously go to Hawaii or something next year?

She laughs and scratches his hair, and he gets five minutes of quiet before Jake falls from the tree.

 

(Later, while Anna is walking Alex and a sleeping Jake back to their car, Nikita gives him a story book in Russian.

\- Your sister… She used to read those to you sometimes.

He opens it and a black and white picture slips out. He recognizes himself, he must have been three or four years old, not much more. He’s tucked against the side of a small girl who’s reading aloud from the very same book, open on both their laps. He takes an other look at the book. It’s not very large. They must have been very small children, Amy and him.

He silently hands the picture back to Nikita. Nikita makes no move to take it.

\- Happy birthday, Grisha.

\- Thank you.

He feels like he should say something else but he can’t figure out what, so he just watches Nikita climb in his car and leave.

He smiles a little bit, and tells Anna it was both the most normal and the strangest birthday he’s ever had. She smiles back, like someone who understands because she can relate. He kisses her for that.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! Thanks.


	4. Pockets of peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of common days off and rain...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several headcanons about Callanna:  
> 1) They're totally into Disney because they're into musicals and Disney are pretty much cartoon musicals.  
> 2) If they watched Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt they would love Titus because he's into musicals too -and since they have laptops and internet why the hell would they not watch Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt???  
> 3) They're totally into roadtrips.
> 
> Side note : I'm gonna answer comments right when I'm done posting this.  
> Side note 2 : My English is still shaky so tell me if you notice mistakes, and I'm trying not to go OOC, sorry if I'm failing.

They don’t have many days off, and when they do they hardly ever get them at the same time –the perks of working for two different agencies. Somehow it works for them. Callen’s never been good at taking on new habits. If they had a lot of free time, weekends off and shit like that, regular time together would be expected. Well he doesn’t know if Anna would expect it but… At any rates they would have to think about it, maybe even talk it out, and he hates that kind of conversation, so he’s kinda happy with the fact that their professional situation allows them to bypass the question of how much time they’re supposed to spend together entirely. Any actual date is a funny accident, never planned more than a few days in advance, improvised more often than not. They both like road trips so when they get more than a whole day for themselves they usually get out of Los Angeles. They keep mentioning Disney World but they would need a few days at the very least if they want to drive there and since terrorists do not take holidays, that’s probably not happening before the next time their respective bosses force them to take days off.

They live as a couple inside the small pockets of common peace that happen like miracles every once in a while. She comes home very late on Saturday night, so late that she just crawls on his mattress with him and immediately falls asleep, and when they wake up it’s Sunday, their phones are blissfully silent, and the world is being washed by Californian rain. They eat what little food Callen keeps in his kitchen, if it’s not freezing outside they open the back door and drink coffee with their bare feet in the wet grass of his garden.

(“I swear I will take care of it, but if you are not trying to grow a rain forest in your backyard, please, buy a lawnmower.”)

They go running under the rain because they were born stubborn assholes instead of quitters. They shower together, she borrows sweatpants from him and wears the hoodie he lets her keep cause apparently that’s a thing he’s into now, his girlfriend wearing his clothes. Some days they watch more musicals, or Disney movies. They bitch about the lameness of Netflix program until they discover Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and pretty much adopt Titus Andromedon.

Some days they don’t even turn the laptops on. Mugs of cold coffees and out of batteries phones lay forgotten on the kitchen island. It’s getting cold with the open windows and backdoor, but they can’t be bothered to get up and close them. They’ve been in the backyard too long so their clothes and hair are wet but the towels are upstairs in the bathroom and it’s too late to go fetch them once they’ve collapsed on his mattress, so they just press against each other. They speak in Russian or they don’t speak at all, content to just lie there and kiss. Their lips taste like rain and coffee, hands wandering under wet clothes, seeking warm skin, tracings patterns and now familiar scars. Callen has more, but he’s been alive longer. She laughs against his mouth when he says so. He goes and tastes the ever so soft skin of her shoulders like an obsession he can’t get rid off. Doesn’t want to get rid off. He lets waves of panic wash over him and go away. She kisses his neck and hair when he tenses up against her.

They don’t even make love, don’t even fool around, they just kiss and touch and hold while listening to the rain, because that’s something that happens in there, in their pockets of peace in between the wars. Moments that are both too much and not enough, left them wanting more and knowing they wouldn’t be able to handle more, not just yet.

(They go through rainy days pretty much unaffected by the weather up until they don’t and have to call in sick on Monday because they both woke up with the flu.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave some kuddos and a review please, I'm desperate for them.  
> Also, I'm considering reshaping this whole thing into a series of individual fics so that it would be easier to situate them chronologically (I'm not writing them in chronological order, I know it's not obvious but it is in my head), any objection?  
> Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my tumblr, it's shitty, come say hi : http://writingindarkness.tumblr.com/


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